


Slow Burn

by Dulcinea



Category: Metallica
Genre: Domination/submission, Humiliation, Light BDSM, M/M, Orgasm Control, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 15:17:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15952010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dulcinea/pseuds/Dulcinea
Summary: James wanted to finally do this. Cross the line. Do the forbidden. Give up control. Hand it over.Trust Lars with himself.





	Slow Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Another old fic. Set in 2003.

James insisted they started somewhere else. Lars wanted to have it in the comfort of their home, but he couldn’t have it there. James needed a change of scenery to match the change of atmosphere. If he was home, he’d be too nervous, more so than he was now driving north on 101 to the place Lars rented. At home, he’d be too chicken, too afraid to go through with it, and Lars didn’t quite understand, but he obliged and found a nice home in Sebastapol to use for the weekend.  
  
Lars left the house earlier in the day to prepare. Now it was the afternoon. Friday was almost over. The sun disappeared behind the mountains and night settled when he parked in front of the ivory two-story Victorian house. The front porch light was on, a window open on the top level, where light shined through the balcony. It was beautiful, a stark contrast to everything James was sure would happen this weekend. But he wanted to finally do this. Cross the line. Do the forbidden. Give up control. Hand it over.   
  
Trust Lars with himself.  
  
He was early: ten minutes to go before seven, the agreed-upon designated time. James didn’t know how Lars would be, what he’d expect, so he assumed the same rules he gave to Lars when they played this game. On-time, always, dressed impeccable, groomed and washed. He waited in the car, picking at his nails, staring at the car ceiling. He worked through humming Master of Puppets for a dark irony’s sake, and hauled ass when he saw there was a minute left. He scrambled his way down the long path, up the front porch to the door and checked his watch as he knocked on the gold handle underneath the peephole.   
  
There was no immediate answer. One minute passed.   
  
He knocked again. Nothing.   
  
Another minute passed.   
  
He knocked again. And again.   
  
Nothing.  
  
James fidgeted in place.  _Is he late? Did he forget? Shit…_  
  
The door clicked and creaked open.   
  
Lars stood there in a black robe with a glass of red wine, smiling ear-to-ear, his hair and face damp. “Hey. Sorry about that. I was taking a shower.” He stepped to the side and gestured James in.  
  
His eyes drifted everywhere but on Lars. Two years later, and looking at a glass of wine made his stomach knot up tight. The house interior was as gorgeous as the exterior: plush carpet, chandelier and luxury items everywhere. It was beautiful, rich, and big. Very big.  _Lars promised to get the best._  
  
“You have an nice drive?”  
  
“Yeah,” James said. “Found the place alright.”  
  
He followed Lars into a large room, probably the den, and sat on the couch while Lars sat opposite him on the chair. The leather squeaked underneath him, the cushions forming around his body.   
  
Lars sipped at his glass. “Want a drink? A soda or something?”  
  
“I’m okay.”  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Lars sipped more wine. He circled the glass around.

Beside him, the fireplace crackled, the only sound in the room.   
  
James fidgeted his fingers together in his lap. “Lars?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“You’re not... I mean, why aren’t you, uh—”  
  
“Ordering you around? Telling you to strip and kneel on the floor like a dog and spread your legs for inspection?”  
  
His dick twitched in his jeans. He nodded.   
  
Lars chuckled. “This isn’t your game. And right now? There is no game. All I want to do is enjoy your company and talk to you. I have only one rule though.” He looked at James over the glass as he sipped. “You answer everything I ask you.”  
  
One of the wooden logs cracked.   
  
James swallowed hard.   
  
Lars smiled around the glass rim. “Can you handle that?”  
  
The challenge was there, in the glare, in the sound of Lars’s voice. The first challenge. The only established rule so far. Tame by James’s standards. Extremely tame from what they’ve done together. But his stomach twisted into further knots. He’d have to _talk._ And by the look on Lars’s face, Lars knew exactly what he was doing.   
  
James stuttered, “W-What will you ask—”  
  
“I ask, you answer. Yes or no. If you can’t handle this rule, then I stop it and we never attempt this again. Do you understand me?”  
  
James nodded yes.   
  
“Verbal answer.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
Lars stood up from the chair, draining the glass. James’s eyes followed him to the corner of the room, where a bottle of wine sat in a gold bucket of ice. Deep red filled the glass again.  
  
“What made you want to do this?”  
  
“Because I wanted to.”

“Uh-huh.”  
  
James shrugged. "That's all there is to it."  
  
“And that’s not an answer.”  
  
“Well, what the hell _do_ you want me to say--?”  
  
The ice crunched underneath the bottle as Lars slammed it back into the bucket. “You lie to me again, and I stop it.”  
  
“I’m not—”  
  
“And if you keep interrupting me, you’re out the door.”  
  
Lars snapped back around. James shrunk underneath his glare. He meant business, no nonsense, and there was a double-meaning to his words he didn’t like at all. As much as he believed Lars would never do something like that to him, the fear was still there, and again, James had no choice. Lars said it himself. This wasn’t his game. These weren’t his rules. So far, there was only one. A tough one. And he had to do it.   
  
His eyes drifted to the floor.   
  
“It was in '89.”  
  
“Tell me what happened then.”  
  
“You know what happened—”  
  
“I don't give a shit. Answer me or else.”  
  
James blurted it out fast. “You shoved me up against the wall and sucked me off during this show in Peoria, Illinois. We had an argument before and I think you were doing that to get me back for something petty I did or whatever.”  
  
“And why that time? Why does that stay in your mind?”  
  
James’s hands fidgeted again. “I... got off on it. Really hard.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I wasn’t expecting it. I felt out of control.”  
  
“Did you like it?”  
  
Quick flashes of memory — hands on his hip, fingers bruising skin, lips wrapped around his cock, warm mouth, his fingers in wet hair, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe — and he shivered.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“How much?”  
  
James licked his lips. The memory of green eyes glaring up at him. The strong hands shoving him in place. His bare ass against cold concrete.  _Don’t make a fucking sound. You want us found? Then shut up._  And he bit his tongue to obey.  
  
“A lot.”  
  
“Mm.” He felt Lars come closer. “Then what happened.”  
  
“We got to my room—  _you_  got me to my room, and I thought we would have a few drinks and fuck. And we did. But it was… different.”  
  
Feet shuffled across the carpet. The couch dipped beside him.   
  
“Tell me what I did.”  
  
James shut his eyes, reliving the memories, the feelings, as he whispered. “You shoved me to the bed. Held me down. I got scared at first, but you told me to shut up. I wasn’t having any of it. I thought you were gonna fuck me, but you knew what to do.” He chuckled. “I swear, that fucking mouth of yours...”  
  
Lars chuckled beside him. “Go on. What happened next?”  
  
James hesitated again, and then whispered hoarse, "You sucked me off. You fucked yourself on my cock. Told me to not touch you.” He swallowed. “Told me to say your name when I came.”  
  
Lars rested a cool hand on his knee. “And you liked it.”  
  
“Yeah. I did.”  
  
The hand rubbed his knee. “When did you first let me fuck you?”  
  
“Not too long after. After the Justice tour ended.”  
  
“Why’d you want it then?”  
  
“... I liked it.”  
  
“Liked what? The loss of control?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
The hand rubbed higher toward his thigh. “Why?”  
  
“I, um... I guess I got curious.”  
  
“Like you are now.”  
  
The hand got closer to his crotch. James licked his dry lips. “Uh, yeah.”  
  
The couch squeaked. Lars scooted closer.   
  
Warm breath fell dangerously close to his ear.   
  
“It gets you off, huh, being controlled. Being held down. Ordered around. Doesn’t it James? Just like you do to me.”  
  
James’s knuckles turned white as the hand finally rested over his crotch.  
  
He held his breath.  
  
Fingers petted the denim.  
  
“Maybe you’d like being tied up. Have your wrists bound. Your legs spread open. Your body immobile. Helpless.”  
  
Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. Down his cheek. His chin.   
  
James’s clutched hands shivered.   
  
His breathing labored faster as the fingers molded around his crotch.  
  
“Maybe you’d like being blindfolded and gagged, so you can moan all you like as you get your ass spanked. Or finger fucked over a knee. Whipped all over. Slapped a few times. Placed into different positions, forced to come.” Lars chuckled. “Or not at all.”  
  
His hips bucked up into Lars’s hand.   
  
The hand around his crotch never moved. It held him steadfast.  
  
Warm lips tickled the shell of his ear.  
  
“Maybe you’d like to get marked. Sport a few bruises, welts, a few scars to remember by. Or get called a few names. Like slut. Or whore.”  
  
The hand around his crotch squeezed hard.  
  
“Or  _boy_.”  
  
A whimper slipped out.  
  
Lars chuckled.   
  
Teeth grazed the skin.   
  
“Do you like that?”  
  
Lars’s hot tongue slipped over his ear.  
  
“ _Boy?_ ”  
  
James’s Adams Apple bobbed. He trembled.  
  
The fire crackled louder than his whisper.  
  
“Y-Yeah.”  
  
“Louder.”  
  
“Yeah.”

“ _Louder_.”  
  
James could barely say it louder. Could barely say anything. Sweat dripped down the bridge of his nose, into his tearducts. He wanted to move. Wanted to do something. Wanted Lars to do something. Anything.  
  
The hand on his crotch squeezed again.  
  
“Mm. You’re nice and hard now.”  
  
The hand let go and patted it like a pet.  
  
“Go ahead and unzip this for me.”  
  
His fingers untangled from themselves and fidgeted at the zipper for what felt like forever. When his dick sprung out, he started to push down his pants—and a sharp slap on his wrist stopped him.  
  
“I said unzip. Not undress.”  
  
“I’m sorry Master.”  
  
“No. Not Master.”  
  
Lars brushed his fingers up James’s cock, from base to head.   
  
“You say my name.”  
  
James nodded. “Yes... Lars.”  
  
On the table in front of them, Lars placed the empty wine glass. His hands fell on James’s wrists and lifted them up to the head of the couch. James’s fingers wrapped around the top.   
  
Lars’s fingers slid down the underside of his stretched arms.   
  
“Very good.”  
  
They slid all the way down his torso, and up underneath his shirt.   
  
James gasped.  
  
Cold fingers. Up his sternum.   
  
Lars pushed the shirt all the way up, the fabric over his face. He breathed in sweat, his own cologne.   
  
A hand patted his collarbones.   
  
“Good boy.”  
  
James bit his teeth into his shirt. The blowback of his breath made him sweat more. Made him hotter.   
  
Palms slipped over his nipples, gathering sweat on the way. They teased over his stomach, close to touching his cock, but stopped before skirting the base.   
  
“Spread your legs wide.”  
  
The jeans confined him from going any wider than he could. He could feel the precome on his belly.   
  
Hands massaged his open thighs.   
  
“Don’t move. Make all the noises you want. But don’t move.”  
  
Teeth sunk into his left nipple.  
  
James slammed his head back. He growled into the shirt.   
  
His fingers flexed and jerked on the head of the couch as Lars bit, sucked, nipped, pinched, pulled and played with his left nipple. And he hissed and growled as Lars did the same to the other.   
  
He panted hard. The blowback heated his face worse, the fabric sticking more to his sweaty skin.   
  
Lars rubbed his belly.   
  
“Tell me, boy.”  
  
His fingers dipped and traced the slit of his cock.  
  
“What do you want me to do to you.”  
  
James tilted his hips up into that hand.  
  
“Fuck me.”  
  
Lars chuckled. Both of his hands slid down into James’s pants.  
  
“How?”  
  
They slowly pushed the denim down sweaty skin, over sharp hips and warm thighs.  
  
“Tell me how you want to get fucked.”  
  
The fabric between James’s teeth turned wet with his saliva. He choked on his gasp, choked on his fear — the comfort in silence, of saying nothing, desire be damned — and he whimpered, “All fours.”  
  
“What else.”  
  
“I—” His jeans fell to his ankles. “I want—” Strong hands jerked his thighs open. He moaned, “Oh  _fuck_.” A hand wrapped around his dick. “ _Fuck!_ ” He tasted his own hot breath. “I… I—” And Lars’s hand slid up. “Ohh. Oh…” And down. “ _Uh!_ ” Slow. “Oh, fuck _me_.”  
  
The grip loosened. “C’mon James. Tell me.” Fingers skipped up his shaft. “Where do you want it?” And down. “On the bed? On this couch?” All the way to the base. “The floor?” Circled around, slow. “Or everywhere.” His fingers squeezed the base. “Maybe in public.” Teeth sunk into his neck. Biting. Sucking. Marking. Then Lars hissed, “Just like a whore.”  
  
James whined, shook his head yes. “ _Yes_ , yes, please—”  
  
“Shut up.” The hand squeezed firmer. “ _This_  is mine.” Teeth bit his neck again. Hips rubbed into his thigh—Lars humping his thigh. The hiss went straight to his balls. “ _You_  are mine.” And he felt a wet tongue lick a path to the hollow of his throat. Lars’s hot breath burned. “And I take care of what is  _mine._ ”   
  
The hands and mouth disappeared.   
  
“ _Hngh_.” He sucked in more of the shirt, ached, burned, jerked his whole body off the couch. He barely whisper-pleaded, “Please.”  
  
The shirt yanked over his head.  
  
Naked Lars. Straddling his lap. Hands spreading on his chest, up to his neck. Petting him. Touching him. Rubbing his nipples.  
  
He moaned, “Please Lars…”  
  
“Please what, James?” Lars leaned in. “What do you want?” He squeezed James’s pecs, the skin reddening under his fingertips and he sucked in James’s long moan into his mouth before he whispered over his quivering lips, “Tell me.”  
  
The fear choked his words. Fear of the unknown. Of this. Giving in.   
  
_Trust him._  
  
He whimpered.   
  
“Shh.” Lars weaved his hands into his hair. “Don’t be afraid, James. Just tell me.”  
  
Soft lips brushed his.   
  
“What do you need.”  
  
Lars’s soft, lingering kiss sent his head spinning.   
  
His eyes fluttered shut—and James finally relaxed underneath him.  
  
“Make me your boy,” he said.  
  
Lars’s chuckle vibrated against his lips, his chest, the sound and the kiss shooting down to his leaking dick.   
  
Their hips rocked together. Cocks met, touched and rubbed. His arms strayed, staying in position, hands bruising around the headrest, needing more,  _more_ , and Lars must’ve listened to him, saw it in his eyes. His hips rocked forward again—James moaned his name—and Lars ate it up, ate him up, fingers turning into claws, teeth into fangs, consumed, eaten, falling drugged into Lars’s spell in another hot kiss.   
  
The room spun when Lars broke away. In the red haze of his mind, James focused his blurry vision on Lars’s teeth, and he watched them smile.   
  
“Boy, huh?” The pink tongue darted out, licking the bottom lip. “You want that?”  
  
“Yes. Yes Lars.”   
  
Hands slid down his face, groping the jawline, the neck, his shoulders, down his biceps, forearms, to his wrists, and lips kissed his jugular when fingers squeezed around his.   
  
“Then follow me, boy.” Lars’s tongue circled his Adam’s Apple. “I’ll take care of you.”  
  
He felt drunk again, like it was the 80s, the old days, but he wasn’t carefree and careless. He was petrified. His shivers triple-folded when Lars ordered him out of his jeans, taking a hand in his and guiding him upstairs. “Next time, I’ll blindfold you,” and Lars squeezed his fingers with a wink, “maybe even have you crawl, with a collar around your neck, leading you with a leash.” And he trembled. He wanted it. He hated it. And yet he wanted it so badly he almost went to his knees to beg for it.   
  
Lars’s ass flexed like his thighs as they walked up the stairs. His other hand reached out. Needed to touch. Wanted to feel Lars—  
  
_No. Don’t touch. Lars won’t like it._  
  
They almost reached the top.   
  
That ass kept flexing. The muscles of his back too. His thighs. His calves.   
  
His fingers stretched out.   
  
_Maybe just a little touch…_  
  
His fingertips brushed Lars’s right ass cheek—  
  
Lars stopped and whipped around. He shook his head. “No touching. I don’t want to punish you.” He smirked. “Unless you want me to.”  
  
James’s breath hitched. “I… I…”  
  
Lars pressed a finger to his lips. “Not a word.” He chuckled. “Follow me.”  
  
The hand in his lead him up, right into the bedroom. Hues of red, everywhere. The bed, the walls, the floor. Red ate up his vision. It suited Lars’s skin.   
  
“Get on the bed.” The hand guided him to the mattress’s edge. “All fours.”  
  
He froze. His knees touched silk.   
  
The hand tugged his.  
  
James swallowed and shut his eyes.   
  
Lars let his hand go.   
  
The bed dipped under his weight. His body shook as he situated himself, arms and legs equidistant, on all fours. His heart beat too fast. The room rocked, his vision blurred,  _dizzy, I’m dizzy_ —  
  
Gentle fingers traced circles on the small of his back.   
  
“James.”  
  
He fought the panic in his throat and groaned, “Yes Lars?”  
  
“Calm down.”  
  
“I’m trying—”  
  
“Calm. Down.” The fingers slid up and a warm palm pressed down. “James.” A soft kiss to his shoulder blade. “Relax for me.”  
  
He squeezed his eyes tighter, clenching his teeth. He focused on the hand on his back, Lars’s palm, how it moved in slow circles. Petting him, relaxing him.  
  
_Relax._  
  
His heart pounded in his head. The room kept spinning. Sweat tickled over his upper lip, down the side of his neck.  
  
Lars kissed the curve of his shoulder. “Relax.”  
  
The hand drifted lower. Fingers made little circles down to his ass.   
  
Lips skirted up to his ear, and he heard Lars loud over his own heartbeat: “You’re mine.” A kiss to his ear. “Now let go.”   
  
He took one deep breath in.  
  
On the exhale, his body sagged forward, his head falling down cheek first onto the silk red pillow.   
  
The hands on his hands drifted up to the small of his back. They petted him. “That’s it.” A kiss to his shoulder blade again. “Stay like that. Don’t move.” The hands lifted away. The bed squeaked beside him. And Lars’s voice sounded far away when he whispered again, “Relax…”  
  
With each deep breath, he felt his body sink into a weird state of peace. Lars’s voice chanted in his head  _relax, let it go, relax_ , and he listened. He obeyed. His mind drifted elsewhere. His body stayed in place. He smiled into the pillow, felt his hot breath blowing back onto his face, and relaxed. Let it go. All of it.  
  
_I trust you._  
  
James startled for a moment when hands returned to his back. He quickly regained composure as they slid up and down his spine in slow strokes.   
  
He sighed when a hand skipped down to his ass, and fingers teased up and down over his hole.  
  
They slipped lower, fingertips brushing his balls. His thighs tensed.   
  
Up again they went, between his crack. And down. And up.   
  
The hands left, and fingers quickly returned, wet and cool, rubbing over the hole.   
  
He let go a soft moan. His legs fidgeted, spreading wider.  
  
One finger entered. Slowly. His balls ached. It moved in, out, gentle, slow—too slow, but he sucked in the whimper, forced himself to be patient.  _Relax,_  Lars said.  _Let go,_  Lars said.  _Mine. You’re mine._  
  
James moaned, “Lars…”  
  
The other hand settled on the small of his back.   
  
He heard Lars’s voice loud and clear. “Fuck yourself.”  
  
His hips obeyed and moved on the next thrust. And the next. And the next. He panted into the pillow, sweat marking the silk.   
  
_More._  
  
The finger stilled. His hips still moved.   
  
James choked for air, rubbing his face into the silk.   
  
His hips moved faster.  
  
_More. Please._  
  
The finger stayed still.  
  
He let go a soft whimper. The bed shifted with his thrusts.   
  
_Please Lars._  
  
On the next thrust, the finger slipped out.   
  
He moaned loud when two pushed in.   
  
They fucked him. The fingers matched the rhythm with his hips. They stretched and scissored, twisted one way on one thrust, twisted one way on another. He released the moans he was holding back, each one louder and longer than the last, and he tried to muffle himself, rubbing his face into the pillows, and it did no good. His cock swung between his legs. His body shook. The bed squeaked. He tasted sweat, swallowed saliva, panted and moaned into the silk, “Fuck me, oh  _fuck me_ ,” spread his thighs even wider and lifted his head up to moan again, “Fuck me  _please_.”  
  
The fingers stilled, all the way in.   
  
He shoved his hips down and squeezed his ass hard.  
  
Above him, Lars grunted.   
  
His head flopped down, cheek first onto the pillow. “Fuck.” His heavy breathing sounded loud and shaky. He took a deep breath and heaved out, “Please Lars.” He managed another deep breath and whined, “ _Please_.”  
  
The hand on the small of his back slid up his spine, over his neck, into his hair.   
  
Fingers latched into the sweaty ends and pulled his head up.   
  
“Look at me.”  
  
His eyes fluttered open.   
  
Lars smiled down at him. Sweat decorated his upper lip and brow, trickling down the sides of his neck.   
  
The fingers inside him curled.   
  
James gasped. His hips bucked. He moaned, “Lars…”  
  
Lars chuckled, letting go of his hair. “You’re ready.”  
  
He moaned again, eyes shutting.   
  
The fingers pulled out slowly, leaving a sensation of emptiness after. But hands touched him again, rubbing his ass, petting his spread thighs. He sighed into the silk, his arms slipping under and around the pillow, when he felt Lars kneel behind him, the bed dipping under his weight. Fingers delved into his hole one more time, spreading more lube around, finger-fucking him slow again, and his cock twitched when they pulled out and were replaced by what he wanted most. What he needed.   
  
“Lars…”  
  
A few thrusts later, he felt Lars’s balls pressed up against his ass.   
  
Hands petted his sides. Lips brushed the base of his neck.   
  
“My boy,” Lars whispered against the skin. Then kissed it.   
  
Slow thrusts. Slow strokes. Lars took his time, dragging out each movement as he dragged his fingers up and down and over his sides, his hips, the inside of his thighs. He builded a burn between them, coaxing James to follow, with hands falling to his hip bones, fingers bruising when they held down and showed James what to do. And James obeyed. His body answered while his mind floated away again. Everything physical registered. Flesh on flesh. Lars’s teeth on his skin. Lars’s lips. Lars’s hands. Lars’s nails and fingers.   
  
Lars’s tongue licked sweat off his neck. His cheek settled onto his spine.   
  
His voice echoed. “Touch yourself.”  
  
He listened, his tingling, heavy hand going to his dick. He matched Lars’s thrusts with slow strokes of his own. Taking his time. Drawing it out. Adding to the burn. Making him sweat more. Making him yearn.   
  
_It’s not enough._  
  
“Uhn.” His hips bucked back into Lars. “Please…”  
  
“Please what?”  
  
The pillow muffled his voice. “Harder.”  
  
“Louder.”  
  
“Harder!” He hissed between his teeth and whined, “Fuck me  _harder!_ ”  
  
A rough thrust forced another whine out from his dry throat. The hands on his hips dug in. Another hard thrust—another yelp—and Lars hissed against his back, “Like that?”  
  
“Y-Yeah. Yeah.” His head flopped down onto the pillow and he moaned, “Oh fuck, yeaaah.”   
  
His dick stroked faster to Lars’s thrusts. And he listened to Lars behind him. “Nnh. Yeah. Fuck.” Felt Lars behind him: his breath spreading across his back, his nails digging in, his fingers bruising, his balls slapping against his ass. “Fuck, fuck,  _fuck_.”   
  
Then Lars’s teeth sunk into his shoulder.   
  
James groaned, “Fuuuck.” His dick twitched in his hand. “Fuuck me Lars.” His shoulder blades pointed up, his right elbow pounding the air as he moved his hand. “ _Laaars…_ ”  
  
The teeth let go. Lars’s mouth moved against his neck: “That’s it. Yeah.  _Fuck._ ” A hand released his hip and folded over his hand instead. “Come, boy. Come  _on_.”  
  
His hips jerked. He lost the rhythm. Lars controlled his hips. Lars controlled his hand. Lars controlled his dick. Lars fucked him harder, fucked him faster, sunk his teeth into his neck, sucked the skin, sucked and fucked and stroked and  _oh god I can’t I CAN’T—_  
  
“ _Lars!”_  
  
Burning alive. He felt like he was burning alive.  
  
All black nothingness. Burning hot, black nothingness.   
  
It felt good. He felt good.   
  
_Fuck._  
  
His body shivered, coming down from his orgasm. Soon he heard Lars whine, felt teeth sink deeper into the skin, and James shivered some more, feeling Lars come inside him.   
  
He settled onto the bed chest first. Lars fell with him. Hands let go of his hips, then the teeth on his neck. Lars’s heavy breathing matched his, equally loud, equally uneven.   
  
Beneath his pelvis, he felt the wet patch where he came. Inside him, he felt Lars’s come, some trickling out, down his thighs. Sweat stained all the silk. The pillows, the sheets.   
  
Lars moaned against his ear, “James…” Hands slid up his sweaty sides. Lips and nose nuzzled the side of his neck. “James… James…”  
  
Arms wound tight around his waist. Lars slowly pulled out of him. He felt his body turned to his side and James smiled when Lars spooned him, burying his face into the crook of his bitten, pulsing neck. Just like he did to Lars, when he was the one in control.  
  
With a weak arm, James reached up behind him to touch Lars’s cheek.   
  
Lars leaned into his palm.   
  
He tilted his head back. Their lips met in a soft kiss. Then another.   
  
On the third, they pulled back and opened their eyes, smiling at each other.   
  
“I love you,” James whispered.   
  
“I love you too,” Lars whispered back.  
  
They indulged in one more soft kiss, before they settled back onto their sides. Lars pushed a leg between James’s. James settled a hand over one of Lars’s forearms. They both reached for the sheets, tucked it around their hips and fell asleep easy to the sound of each other’s breathing.


End file.
